


So, a mariner, I long for a land-fall

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Series: Asterisms [11]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: In which Cassian asks a hypothetical question.





	So, a mariner, I long for a land-fall

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago, **rain_sleet_snow** prompted me with [this fragment](http://www.canadianpoetry.ca/confederation/Bliss%20Carman/sappho/xxxix.htm) of Sappho:  
>  _I grow weary of the foreign cities,_  
>  _The sea travel and the stranger peoples._  
>  _Even the clear voice of hardy fortune_  
>  _Dares me not as once on brave adventure._
> 
> It took a long time, but something finally shook loose.

It used to be not easy—never easy—but simple. Cassian could move on from a botched mission, a dead comrade, a killing he regretted the necessity of. He took a moment to recover his balance and swallow down the nausea. He kept going and never looked behind him.

These days it’s harder to get back up, to push himself to his feet after being knocked into the dirt. A harsh voice in his head insistently reminds him that he’s living on borrowed time, that he came so close to dying he could have reached out and sifted his fingers through the ashes of a planet.

That’s nothing new, of course. The difference now is that he has a reason to live other than wanting to avoid death.

Today he didn’t have to make the shot he didn’t want to; today Jyn was there and made it for him. He can see marks on her bare shoulder, thin red lines where shrapnel whistled by. There’s a burn on his palm from a cheap blaster that overheated and nearly exploded in his hand. It’s slathered in bacta but accurate shooting is still going to be painful tomorrow.

Cassian’s never been so vain as to consider himself indispensable. Useful, yes, maybe even essential in some ways, but not irreplaceable. If he and Jyn had died on that beach, the Rebellion would have carried on with barely a hitch in its stride.

Then why couldn’t it go on without them now? asks the voice, its tone sweetened into beguiling temptation. Both of them would have given their lives without hesitation; their friends and so many of those they led to Scarif did. Doesn’t that entitle them to a moment free of war? Just a brief respite?

Cassian shakes his head, trying to dislodge the demon of selfishness whispering in his ear.

Jyn stirs in his arms and twists around to look at him. She peers through the dark fringe of her hair like a wary animal. “Can’t sleep?”

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say until the question escapes him. “If I ran away with you, where would we go?”

“You’d never leave the Rebellion.” Her voice doesn’t hold any bitterness, only bedrock level certainty; and that might actually hurt more.

“But if I did?” he presses. “Where would we go?” With his good hand, he strokes up and down her arm, savouring the warm, solid life of her.

Jyn laughs, more a tremor against his chest than a sound, but she humours him and takes a moment to think about her answer. He wonders if she’ll say Lah'mu, perhaps, but she doesn’t name anywhere stained with the blood of their pasts.

“There’s a place called Takodana,” she whispers. “Do you know it?”

He sorts through wisps of rumour and half-remembered intel. “Isn’t there some kind of smugglers’ hideout there?”

“Don’t let Maz hear you call her castle that.” One corner of her mouth draws up into a dimple. “It’s just a small planet, mostly lakes and forest. When I was little, I used to want to live in a treehouse…” Her voice subsides into silence.

The random scraps of memory she shares now and then fascinate him. He brushes his lips across the crown of her head.

“You know I wouldn’t quit, right?” Her voice is thready and too quiet. The implication that she’d leave has hurt her; she thinks he still doubts her commitment to the cause.

Cassian curls his arm around her, sweeping his hand up the contours of her back and pressing it to the tense space between her shoulderblades. “I know, Jyn. I know you’re here to stay.”

She softens, burrowing her head into his chest. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the same translation.


End file.
